


I Want Candy

by rendawnie



Series: Pieces [16]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Camboys, Crushes, Getting Together, M/M, Masturbation, Sex Toys, Sexual Content, Underwear Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-03 15:01:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11534658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rendawnie/pseuds/rendawnie
Summary: Jihoon knows Mingyu watches his camboy shows.Soundtrack: "I Want Candy", Bow Wow Wow





	I Want Candy

It takes Mingyu far longer than it should to realize he’s staring at the way Jihoon’s swirling his tongue around the perfect curl of soft serve ice cream topping the small waffle cone in his hand, as they sit in the campus cafeteria together.

Ogling might be a better word for it.

_Leering._

Nope. Too far.

Jihoon’s kind of smiling at him as he eats, and it’s a little too knowing for Mingyu’s particular comfort level, so he shakes his head quickly to clear the thoughts out of it and clears his throat. He fumbles for his phone in his pocket, drops it on the floor twice, and finally straightens back up with the small device in his hand. He knows he’s blushing, but there’s nothing to be done about it.

“Uh. Um. Wow, look at the time!” Mingyu exclaims, louder than necessary. “I’ve, uh...I’ve got a thing...I gotta...I gotta, like...go…” He trails off, glancing back at Jihoon and waiting to be saved from his own humiliation.

Jihoon finishes his ice cream, crunching the cone between his teeth, still looking amused. “Yeah. Totally, man. I’ve got a thing too. I’ll catch you later.”

Mingyu knows what thing Jihoon has. He just doesn’t know that Jihoon knows that Mingyu knows.

Yet.

After they say their goodbyes, Mingyu races back to his blessedly empty dorm room, locking both locks on the front door _and_ the door to his bedroom, just in case. Wonwoo’s walked in on him before. It was so embarrassing that Mingyu had avoided his roommate for nearly a week after. Even after he let Wonwoo laugh at him for almost two hours straight when they finally talked it out, Mingyu was still experiencing aftershocks of cringe for months.

He doesn’t have time to think about that now, because he’s about to be late.

Mingyu fires up his laptop, navigating to the bookmarked tab he leaves open nearly all the time, these days.

 

_LIVE CAMBOYS!! ANYTHING YOU WANT!! PAY TO SEE!!! 22,000 WON FOR ONE HOUR!!_

 

The cringe is starting to creep back up. Mingyu ignores it.

He signs into the website quickly, pecking out his username on the keyboard. _K-M-G-4-6-9-7._ He congratulates himself again on choosing a discreet name to go by. He can’t risk being caught by Jihoon.

Jihoon can never know that Mingyu watches his camboy shows.

They’ve been friends since Mingyu transferred to this university, six months ago. They have two classes together, Music Production and Principles of Human Sexuality.

Mingyu tries not to think about that second one too hard when Jihoon’s sitting right next to him. It’s difficult.

As he’s authorizing yet another payment to the website, Mingyu calculates how much he’s spent this month already, and when he arrives at the number, he swiftly decides to forget it exists. It doesn’t matter. Racking up irresponsible financial debt is a hallmark of college youth. He’s only doing what he should, while he can.

He’s willing to bet that most of his fellow students aren’t spending their irresponsible money watching one of their closest friends get off, live and on camera, on a near daily basis.

Mingyu sighs, pushing his pants down his legs. He’s felt antsy all day. He needs this. He’s so, so ready.

He’s already got a hand in his briefs when Jihoon pops up on the screen, and Mingyu nearly loses it right then.

Today, Jihoon’s wearing nothing but the tiniest pair of hot pink tighty-whities Mingyu’s ever seen, and he’s got a big, pink and white striped lollipop between his pursed lips when he smiles at the camera.

“Hey, everybody, it’s your favorite candy boy, Woozi. Missed you guys.”

It’s so alarmingly casual, the way Jihoon knows exactly how to destroy his audience, particularly Mingyu. It’s _upsettingly_ appealing. Mingyu hates it. He’s positive he does. Apparently, hate and attraction are perilously close to each other in the hierarchy of Sex Stuff.

Annoying.

Mingyu almost never comments in the chat that takes up one side of the screen. He knows Jihoon sees the comments, even if he doesn’t really answer them directly. They influence the way his shows go.

 

_U look gud suckn that lolli babe_

 

_Wish u were suckin meee lololol_

 

Mingyu makes a vague noise of disgust and turns off the chat. He doesn’t want to think about Jihoon sucking anyone else. He should probably _not_ be thinking about Jihoon sucking _him,_ but that’s neither here nor there.

Mingyu cums twice before Jihoon even gets to the grand finale, and a third time when bouncing on his favorite big, pink toy makes Jihoon cry out, a pretty, hoarse sound. He never even got around to taking his briefs all the way off, and now there’s a mess of sticky nonsense in them, but Mingyu’s too blissed out to care. He hasn’t dated anyone since he met Jihoon, since he met Jihoon and swiftly realized that Jihoon was _Woozi,_ the same Woozi he’d been watching for quite some time, to blow off steam. He’s had trouble making himself focus on anyone else since.

Not that it matters, because Jihoon is his _friend,_ and Woozi is a different thing.

Except it’s not. Somewhere inside Jihoon, Woozi exists, and Mingyu just kind of wants to find out how different they really are. He doesn’t care what the answer is. He just wants to _find out._

But that’s never going to happen, because that would mean that Jihoon knew that Mingyu watches his shows. Which he doesn’t. And he never will.

“Mingyu...are you watching today?”

The sound of Jihoon’s soft, post-orgasm voice jerks Mingyu back to reality. He can’t possibly have said what Mingyu thinks he just heard. It is, literally, impossible.

On Mingyu’s laptop screen, Jihoon leans forward. Quickly, Mingyu grabs a tissue and wipes away a few illicit stains over Jihoon's face. It makes him feel less gross. He’ll take what he can get, especially when his heart is suddenly thumping out of his chest.

Jihoon grins, lollipop stuck in one corner of his mouth. “Maybe I’ll bring an ice cream cone next time, Mingyu.”

And he winks.

And Mingyu dies.

He dies so hard, in fact, that he manages to convince himself that it was all a fever dream, that he heard nothing of the sort come out of Jihoon’s mouth, and it was just some sort of orgasmic delirium that brought a full-on hallucination to his computer screen. It makes the most sense, really.

Mingyu logs off quickly and cleans himself up, changing into a new pair of underwear before he falls back onto his small bed. He’s trying not to think too hard about anything that just happened. It’s not really working.

He lays there for a while, trying to regroup, and Mingyu isn’t sure how many minutes pass before he hears the sound of his text notification chime from somewhere nearby. Mingyu frowns, sitting up enough to look around, and when that makes his head hurt because he doesn’t have all the necessary blood back in it yet to function properly, he flops back down and just sort of paws around in his blankets blindly until he finds where he’d thrown the small object in the rush to get started.

It takes another minute of jabbing his fingers at the screen weakly before Mingyu manages to unlock the phone and check his text messages. There’s one, from Jihoon.

 

_Enjoy the show?_

 

Mingyu drops the phone on his face.

He picks it up again quickly, turning over onto his side so he can read those three words over and over again.

Jihoon can’t mean what Mingyu thinks he means. He’s got to handle this delicately. He’s got to...play dumb.

 

_What show?_

 

It feels like a small eternity before Jihoon replies.

 

_You’re not as sly as you think you are, KMG4697._

 

Frantically, Mingyu runs through all his options. He could apologize immediately, and swear it was a one-time mistake. Jihoon would probably know better. He could feign ignorance, and assure Jihoon there was some other KMG out there born on 4-6-97. It could be true.

He could tell the truth, and watch their friendship crash and burn.

He ends up going with some weird combination of all three.

 

_Jihoon I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to_

 

_It was like one time_

 

_Two or three times maybe_

 

_It wasn’t me anyway_

 

_Probably some other Kim Mingyu_

 

_4-6-97_

 

_Haha_

 

_What are the odds_

 

_Anyway I don’t even know what show we’re talking about_

 

_I’ve never seen a show_

 

_I don’t watch any shows I don’t even have a TV_

 

Mingyu curls into the fetal position and waits. The next message that comes through isn’t a text. It’s a picture.

It’s a picture of Woozi, er, _Jihoon,_  in those little pink tighty-whities, looking A) still fucked out, B) amused, C) like he has got some shit on someone Mingyu’s not gonna believe.

It’s Mingyu. He’s pretty sure he’s the someone.

The picture’s followed by another text.

 

_I’m coming over. Put some new briefs on, for fuck’s sake._

 

Mingyu sticks his tongue out at his phone.

 

_I already did_

 

He realizes he’s made a fatal error when he gets Jihoon’s reply.

 

_Gotcha, KMG4697._

 

After that, Mingyu gets up and out of bed entirely, and he ignores the way his head still feels like a balloon long enough to get properly dressed. He puts on jeans, and a t-shirt. He still feels naked, so he puts on shoes and socks. And a ballcap. And a sweater. And a long coat, just for good measure. He doesn’t want Jihoon to see any of his shame.

By the time Jihoon knocks on the door, Mingyu’s wearing two hats, an extra jacket, and shorts over his jeans. And he still. Feels. _Exposed._

He throws open the door with as much dignity as he can, which isn’t a lot, at the moment. Jihoon’s standing there in jeans and a oversized sweater that’s falling off one shoulder, and when he gets a load of Mingyu, he nearly falls over laughing right there in the hallway. Mingyu rolls his eyes, pulling Jihoon inside, and all but slams the door again.

Between snickers, Jihoon manages to wheeze out out a few words. “What...the fuck...are you doing...it’s fucking...August…” He barely makes it through the broken sentences before he cracks up again, yanking Mingyu towards his bedroom by several of his sleeves.

Once they’re there, and Mingyu is staring down at Jihoon in mute horror while Jihoon peels off layer after layer of Mingyu’s poor disguise, Jihoon begins to talk, softly.

“I’ve known you watched for months, Mingyu. I didn’t mind. I liked it, actually.”

Mingyu waits for Jihoon to remove the mask he put over the lower half of his face, just so he couldn't say anything stupid, before he replies.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks. “Why did you let me embarrass myself?”

Jihoon frowns a little. “I didn’t think you’d be so ashamed of it. I’m sorry. I’m not ashamed of what I do.”

Mingyu sighs as the last of the layers come off, and he’s in a t-shirt and jeans again. “No, I’m not...I’m not _ashamed_ , Jihoon. I just. I didn’t want you to think I was like all those other assholes who just look at you and don’t actually care about _you._ Y’know? I like...I actually _like_ you,” Mingyu admits, and then he meets Jihoon’s eyes just in time to catch a faint blush spread across his cheeks.

“I like you too,” Jihoon says quietly. “That’s why I didn’t mind if you watched. I thought maybe you’d tell me eventually, but you didn’t, ever, so...I had to do something. You’re the only one I’ve been doing those shows for, for months.”

Mingyu takes a deep breath. “I have, like, a _lot_ of questions, I mean, _a lot,_ like do you wear those little pink things in the actual bedroom and is candy actually a kink of yours because I’m not entirely sure if it’s one of mine or if you’re just my kink, just _you,_ Jihoon, I have all these questions but I don’t care about any of them right now, because--”

When Jihoon cuts Mingyu off with a kiss, going up on his tiptoes to make it work, Mingyu forgets every single question he had. He’s finally got the only answer he needs.


End file.
